


Campfire

by oOAchilliaOo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:32:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5706106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOAchilliaOo/pseuds/oOAchilliaOo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hadn’t really given it much thought before, but Cullen really was a spectacular general and as they sit around a campfire halfway to Adamant, Evelyn Trevelyn realises just how good he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Campfire

She hadn’t really given it much thought before, but Cullen really was a spectacular general. 

Oh, she’d always known that the army was both disciplined and well-trained, and she knew that Cullen himself had an almost unnatural devotion to his work, but somehow she had never interpreted those facts to specifically mean that Cullen was a specular general. But now, as she watched him stalk about the camp, stopping by what seemed to be each individual campfire (but couldn’t possibly be every fire) she realised just how good with the soldiers he was. 

They were almost at Adamant fortress, another half day’s march or so by all reports, and everyone was understandably nervous about what awaited them there. She and the inner circle were huddled around the largest fire in the encampment, their tents arranged in a semi-circle around them. The open side of their fire faced the rest of the encampment, just on the rise of the hill. This granted them a slightly elevated viewpoint over the troops and allowed her to look down onto the sea of tents interspersed with smaller campfires. Their people.

The gentle winter wind carried the noises from the camp up and she could hear the clanging of swords as some of the warriors worked off their nerves with practice. She could also hear the snatchings of a song, though she could not distinguish either the source or the words. Further off in the distance, a series of cheers rose up but she had no clue what they might be cheering about. 

Through all the chaos Cullen stalked, moving periodically from fire to fire. He’d excused himself from their fire a few hours ago, muttering something about seeing to the troops. She’d had no idea what exactly he’d meant by that or why he needed to, but Cassandra had made an approving noise and nodded as if she’d expected it, and so he’d left.

She’d watched him approach the nearest fire, accepting a cup of ale from one of his captains with a nod of thanks and taking a seat amongst his people. She’d been close enough to hear him as he’d asked about their families and had watched him listen intently to all their answers. He’d then shared a story from his own childhood, one that had the men chuckling appreciatively. They seemed much more forthcoming with stories of their own rambunctious boyhoods after that and he’d smiled encouragingly as they’d recounted them. 

Then he’d clapped the shoulder of the man nearest to him, thanked them for letting him share their fire and had moved onto the next. Once there he’d accepted another cup of ale and had sat to play a few rounds of dice with the new group, grumbling good-naturedly when he lost and smirking smugly when he won. Eventually he won a large pot, but immediately distributed the money amongst those present.

“Have a few drinks back at Skyhold,” he’d said. “On me.” 

At the next fire he’d won an arm wrestling competition to loud cheers and at the one after that he had joined in with singing a joyous shanty about a fishwife or something. She noted that he accepted a cup of ale at each campfire he came to, but never finished it. He took only a few sips before setting the cup aside and passing it to another soldier as he moved to the next fire. He didn’t laugh, but he smiled, he looked serious, but not grim. Somehow he projected an aura of complete confidence and calm surety that helped even her believe that they could do this. She could only imagine how that presence helped the troops and each fire he left, he left it in higher spirits. 

Eventually he moved so deep into the camp that she could no longer really see him. However, every now and then she’d catch sight of his fur pauldrons outlined by the firelight as he moved from fireplace to fireplace. 

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra’s sharp voice interrupted her thoughts. She reluctantly tore her eyes from where she’d been watching him approach yet another fire. 

“I’m sorry… What?” she replied, once she’d collected herself. 

“I asked if you were feeling well,” Cassandra repeated. “You have been uncharacteristically quiet this night.” 

“I believe our dear Inquisitor is simply distracted Cassandra,” Leliana interjected before she could reply. “By a sight far more attractive that you or I, no?”

Evelyn blushed as the spymaster fixed her with an all too knowing gaze, but managed to stop herself from automatically turning her head to seek him out once more. 

“I…” she began, in a feeble attempt to deny Leliana’s insinuation, but she was interrupted by Leliana’s soft laughter. 

“Don’t worry, I quite understand. I’ve seen the signs before,” Leliana added with a sly look, though Evelyn had no idea what Leliana meant by ‘signs’. 

“Now that sounds like a story, Nightingale,” Varric rumbled, crossing his boots on a convenient log and settling himself more comfortably. He clearly expected Leliana to take on the story-teller role for once.

She did not disappoint.

“Well, during the fifth blight…” 

Evelyn returned to her pastime of watching Cullen progress through the camp, letting only the vaguest details of Leliana’s story filter through. At least, until she spotted him making his way back to their fire. She turned back to the rest of the group, trying desperately to make it look like she was paying attention. 

He took the vacant seat beside her and reached out to tear a few strips of meat from the carcass roasting on the fire. She was, for some reason, utterly entranced by the motion of him pulling the meat from the bone and licking the grease from his fingers. 

“All seen to, Commander?” Cassandra asked him, once Leliana had finished her story. 

He grunted in response around the mouthful of food he had before chewing and swallowing. Oddly, she found herself fascinated by the motion of his throat as he did so. 

“The troops are ready,” he replied. “We’ll see it done,” he added, casting a strangely intense glance in her direction. 

She nodded. She had never doubted, not for a moment. 

They lapsed into silence for moment, an oasis of calm braced against the storm to come. Leliana began humming softly under her breath, accompanied by the swish of Cassandra sharpening her blade and Varric snoring softly from his log. Bull was off with his Chargers somewhere (and hopefully not too drunk), Dorian had his head buried in some massive tome and beside her Cullen continued eating what was left of the meal. She had a quiet moment to stare into the fire and reflect on all she had done, all she had yet to do and what tomorrow would bring. 

“We will prevail, you know.” 

“Hmm?” she questioned, blinking her eyes to clear the firelight from them. 

Cullen smiled. “Tomorrow. We will prevail.” 

“With the way you were with the troops, I believe it,” she told him, truthfully. 

He shrugged. “It is expected. A good commander knows what the men need and delivers it when it is needed.” 

“How do you do it?” she asked him lightly “How do you know what it is that they need?”

“It isn’t so hard,” he replied, offhanded. “All soldiers are the same when you come right down to it. The young ones don’t need courage, young people already believe they’re indestructible. But if that courage is to remain strong when the enemy is upon, them they need to know that their leaders share that courage. That’s what I can show them. The older ones, the ones that have seen battle before, will have a more realistic idea of our chances. Their courage will remain strong in the face of our enemy, but they need to know that their efforts will not be wasted. That they will not just be thrown blindly at the fray.” 

He paused then, staring into the fire. She noted that the light made the fervour in his eyes burn ever more brightly and beautifully. 

“And I… I need to remember that each life matters. I play with markers that represent entire units as I try to determine what placements will bring us victory. There is the danger that that may cause me to devalue their lives, and I must not let that happen.” 

He clenched his fists, and automatically, she reached out wrapping her fingers around his. She felt a little of the tension drain out of him, even as his haunted eyes met her own and he opened his fist in order to take her hand.

“You wouldn’t,” she said softly. She knew it to be true, deep in her heart, she knew that he would never risk his men unnecessarily. He half-smiled at her in the firelight, and she wondered, for perhaps the millionth time, what it would be like to kiss those lips, what he would taste like, how that damnable scar would feel. 

“I am… comforted by your faith in me,” he murmured, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand. 

The action sent pleasurable waves shooting through her being and yet she could not tear her gaze from his warm amber eyes. She could drown in those eyes, no, she was drowning in those eyes. Something heavy and deep and serious settled in the air between them and she thought she knew what it was but didn’t dare give a name to it, even in her head, in case that made it disappear. Her heartbeat was thudding in her chest so much that he could surely hear it. If he did he gave no indication save for the slight squeezing of her hand as he leaned just that little bit closer… 

Cassandra’s blade fell from her knees and the loud clatter had them almost leaping guiltily apart. 

Why guiltily? 

“Sorry,” Cassandra mumbled, retrieving the blade from the floor and returning it to her knees. 

Cullen merely shrugged as if the interruption was of no consequence to him. Maybe to him, it hadn’t been. 

“No matter,” he said. “I should tend to my own weapons in any case. Ah, by your leave, my lady?” he added softly, though she was sure that for just a moment he’d looked like he’d wanted to say something else entirely.

“Of course, Commander,” she replied forcing herself to return her gaze to the fire instead of following him with her eyes. She tried once again to focus on the quiet and the firelight. Striving for that calm oasis she’d found before he’d spoken. 

But it was no use, all she could feel was the ghost of his hand on hers, the feel of those beautiful amber eyes on her and the heated blood rushing through her veins. 

And there was no other explanation for that. 

She was in love with her Commander. 

Fuck.


End file.
